Stomach and Heart
by Genis Aurion
Summary: Slashfic, StanKyle. After helping Ike sort out his own problems, Stan realizes that what he deems as infantile problems may not be so infantile. Now he must determine whether his feelings for his girlfiend Wendy are from his stomach... or from his heart.


Ok, so this what-was-going-to-be-a-oneshot is a very spontaneous story. Inspired by an MSN conversation with H.C.G. She gave me song lyrics for something, as well as a generally idea. I came up with some other stuff. So, thanks for the idea, and hope you like this!

This will probably be ten chapters at the max.

Note that this will **not** be a songfic. I hate those with a passion.

I have a livejournal for those that have one. It's basically where I post my udpates up, in case fanfiction gets slow. My username, how original of me, is Zakuyoe. Go add me.

I've been told that people think I'm a girl… No, I am not a girl… thanks for noticing. I'm sorry if that bothers you, though.

**Stomach and Heart  
Chapter 1**

It's quite annoying when you want to spend time with your best friend, only to learn that half the time there you'll be babysitting his little brother.

Stan Marsh knows that feeling well. It would always end up the same way. He'd arrive at Kyle's house, ready to play the newest video game system; and within minutes Kyle's parents would declare their departure, with the same four words (five if it were Mrs. Broflovski speaking) every single time. They'd pretend they heard nothing, merely creaming each other at a street fighting game; but by the time Ike arrives on the scene it is quite impossible to continue avoiding their assigned task.

"Ike's eleven!" Kyle protests one day as he puts a macaroni and cheese casserole in the microwave. Stan places plates on the table as he listens to Kyle rant; it's commonplace for the boy to voice his complaints as he serves Ike dinner. "I mean, he can take care of himself! And where the hell do my parents go every time you're here?"

"Love motel?" Stan suggests, and he receives a light smack from his friend. He chuckles, laughing at his own joke, and he returns to the kitchen to fetch some silverware.

"Dude, that's sick!" Kyle stands in front of the microwave, waiting impatiently for the dish to finish being heated up. "I don't want a mental of my parents doing the nasty, thanks."

"You're not supposed to do that," Stan warns, returning to the table. "Standing in front of the microwave, I mean." The loud clatter of silverware clashing into ceramic plates is heard next, and afterward Stan joins Kyle's side.

"Damn mac and cheese," Kyle mutters.

Stan peers into the microwave's window-like door. "Mac and cheese? You're mom's gonna freak, isn't she?" Kyle's family is Jewish, and the two boys are oh-so-fortunate to have a mother who obsesses over serving Jewish food every night, as well as proudly practicing traditional customs.

"Dude, she's not gonna know." With a loud beeping sound the casserole is finished, and Kyle immediately throws open the microwave's door. He quickly transfers it onto a small, wooden cork on the table. "Call my brother for me, will you?" Stan nods, exiting the kitchen as quickly as he can. He climbs a flight of stairs, and as he sees the long hallway in front of him, he reminds himself that Ike's door is to the left.

It's slightly open, and Stan figures he can let himself in. "Hey Ike, your brother—" but he stops his sentence short as he enters Ike's room. The two meet gazes for a split second, and as Stan's eyes widen with shock the younger boy pulls his hands out of his pants, quickly stuffing a photograph under his bed.

"Knock, maybe?" Ike seethes, but Stan remains open-lidded. "Sorry you had to see that, dude. But seriously… knock?"

"Sorry, I thought I could—" but Stan doesn't bother finishing his sentence; there's no need for explanation. "A little young to be doin' that, don't you think? I mean, I started when I was sixteen…" He glances outside, and as he peers out the door, he shuts it carefully.

Then again, Stan figures, he did start dating when he was barely three.

"This kid at my school, Filmore," Ike says, standing up and looking at his feet. "He was talking about how he was choking the chicken a couple of days ago, and how it felt good." He gives a laugh, perhaps because of the terminology he's just used. "And lately, usually when I'm walking in the halls, I've had this odd feeling , kinda like a pained feeling. So then, after what Filmore said…" He nods his head, not wanting to finish hi sentence.

"Yeah, I get it," Stan concludes. "And the photograph?"

"Filmore mentioned that it helps looking at someone you're attracted to," Ike says innocently. Stan nods his head, and he can begin hearing Kyle's irritated voice downstairs. "You can't tell my brother, though! Please! He'd freak out if he found out I liked someone."

"Dude, there're probably other things he'd stress out over than that," Stan says, chuckling. "Like maybe, masturbating." Ike bites his lip, looking out the window. Stan sighs, nodding his head understandingly; and he places a hand on his shoulder sympathetically. "Don't worry, I won't tell." Ike nods, silently giving his thanks, and the two walk out of Ike's room quietly. As they face the staircase a very irritated Kyle glares at the pair.

"Took you long enough," Kyle fumes. "How long does it take to call a brat down for dinner?"

"I'm already here, geez." Suddenly a phone vibrates, and as the two brothers break their death glare to find the source of the distraction, Stan waves his hand apologetically.

"That'd be me," says Stan, stepping outside the front door to glance at the caller ID. Sighing, he presses the talk button. "Hey."

"That's it?" asks an exasperated voice on the other line. "That's all I get after being left alone all day in my house? You ditch your girlfriend for your best friend, and all I get is a measly 'hey?'"

"Hey _sweetie_." The girl's voice on the other line relaxes, and Stan heaves a sigh. "What's up, then?"

"Calling my boyfriend, of course. Stan, you've been at Kyle's house every day this week! You can't spend at least one day with me?"

"Sorry, Wendy," Stan apologizes. "Kyle's got babysitting duties, and I'd be ashamed to leave him alone." Stan pauses, and he can faintly hear yelling voices inside the house. "I bet they're burning the house down as we speak."

"Fine, fine." She dismisses the subject, pausing for a second. "You're lucky my parents are calling me to dinner. You'd better talk to me more once school starts again."

"Of course, _Wendy_," Stan replies, a bit irritated. "Bye then."

"Wait!" she exclaims. "You didn't say I love you!" Stan takes a deep breath, letting out one long steam of breath as an exhale.

"I. Love. You. How many times do I have to say it for you to be satisfied?"

"As many times as I want," she replies happily, but before Stan can say anything in reply she hangs up. He remains still for a moment, as if in deep thought; but the sudden sound of glass crashing brings his attention quickly to the house, entering the household once more to break up yet another sibling fight.

- - - - - - - - - -

"Come on, Stan! You gotta push harder!"

"Dude, I'm trying my best! It's not working!"

"Push harder then!" The two boys, along with Ike, are eating the macaroni and cheese that was previously heated up. Ike sits at one end of the table, with Stan and Kyle facing each other. "Come on Stan! If you don't push your parents hard enough they'll never cave in."

"I've tried all I can, dude. There's no way my parents will let me go to Connecticut for New Year's."

"But, Stan! There's no way I'm gonna possibly _survive_ over there!" He shudders at the mere thought of his cousin. "Ask your parents, please?"

"Have you even asked mom yet?" Ike questions, and Kyle nods.

"Mom says he can come if it's all right with his parents," Kyle replies. "Which is _why_ you gotta convince 'em, dude!"

"Like I told you, Kyle—"

"PUSH HARDER!" The sentence is said perhaps a bit too loudly, and it is quite thankful that his parents aren't home. Stan only knows what kind of actions can be mistaken for this conversation…

"Good diction," Ike mutters, snorting while taking a bite of food. "I'd be mom would be pleased to hear that you're taking it up the—"

"Shut up, Ike," and Kyle hangs his head in embarrassment. Stan laughs, returning to his own food; and he's at least grateful that it doesn't taste the same as the Matzah ball soup he ate the previous night. "Stan, are you still up for the movies tonight?"

"Sure, dude. Which movie?"

"There's that new action film out. I heard it was pretty sweet."

"Good deal." Of course, that would mean that Stan wouldn't be spending the evening with Wendy as he always did every weekday while school was still in session. Somehow Kyle seems to be able to sense this, and every time he planned something with the boy, like now, Kyle always asked about his girlfriend.

"I don't want her to yell at you again, dude," Kyle mutters. "I mean, last time was pretty harsh…"

"She called a while ago," said Stan, "so it's not really last time anymore." He then nods, taking a bite of food. "Dude, I said I'd go; no girlfriend's gonna stop me." He chuckles, glancing at the oldest of the two brothers, and then he turns to the youngest boy. "You're coming with, right?"

"Me?" Ike asks innocently, and both Stan and Kyle nod.

"It's not like we can dispense you," Kyle mutters under his breath. "We still have to baby-sit you, technically."

"I wouldn't be in the way?" Two completely contrasting answers are heard next, but Stan's the only one who bothers to repeat his response.

"No," which means Kyle had said yes. "Unless you stuff your shirt in my face while trying to parallel park or something."

"Nah, I wouldn't do that." He suddenly gets up and runs swiftly up the staircase. "I'll change and be right back!" Kyle groans, standing up to clear the table.

"Watch him bring an extra shirt just to do that."

"I doubt he would." Stan gets up to help his friend clear up. "It's something you'd do; not him."

"Oh yes, Stan. Strip my shirt off, just for you, so I can stuff a shirt in your face while parallel parking."

"Make it erotic while you're at it," Stan jokes, and Kyle immediately walks away. "It's not like I actually have to parallel park at the cinema."

"That's good," Kyle says, placing three plates into the sink. "You suck at it, anyway."

"I do not suck!" Stan protests. "I passed my road test, thank you! Unlike _someone_ I know, who doesn't even have his permit yet!"

"You barely passed," Kyle corrects with a laugh. "Besides, my mom won't let me drive 'till I'm eighteen."

"That's gay," Stan remarks. At that moment Ike returns, wearing an orange sweatshirt. It's probably not enough for the cold weather, but, as Kyle nor Stan is Mrs. Broflovski, neither boy cares. "Well then, shall we go?"

The car ride itself is quite lame, in Stan's opinion. There's a slight flurry outside, but it's nothing compared to the worst that South Park's seen. Still, Stan drives twenty miles slower than he normally would (reckless driving is one of Kyle's complaints about Stan), which means they arrive a good ten minutes later than usual.

"I'll get tickets," Kyle mutters, clutching a stack of paper money in his hand.

"Dude, you don't have to pay for me," Stan mutters, but Kyle brushes it off. He leaves the two for a moment, and Stan pulls out an umbrella that had been in his car. "Ike, take it." But Ike isn't moving. "Ike?"

But Ike's eyes are transfixed upon something in the distance, and as Stan peers over to where he's staring at, Stan smirks. It's not a something; rather, Ike's staring at a someone. It's a girl, or at least what the snow allows Stan to see, and she's wearing an utter amount of pink. She has flowing brown hair, past her shoulders; and she's accompanied by a group of friends.

"Person you like?" Stan asks simply, and Ike hits him in the side. "Ow, what-?"

"Shut up," the boy says, turning away.

"Dude, there's nothing wrong with it," Stan mutters.

But Ike thinks otherwise. "She's in my grade, but she's a good three years older than me! People my age should still be thinking of girls as… icky, with the cooties, and stuff…"

"On my defense, I liked Wendy when I was eight." Then, smiling, Stan adds: "Three years older? You've done much worse." Stan earns another hit from the shorter boy.

"I don't get it, though," Ike mutters, bracing his head with his covered hands. "I'm so confused. Every time I see her, I get this weird feeling. Filmore's a grade below me, but he's talking about how there's this feeling you get when you like someone…"

"Ike," Stan mutters, bending down to his level. "It's okay to have feelings about someone. But just remember…" He looks away for a moment, and as he takes a deep breath he looks back at Ike. "Make sure you aren't confusing the feelings of your stomach, and the feelings of your heart."

"What'd you mean?"

"I mean, a gut-wrenching feeling inside you doesn't mean you're in love. Make sure it's the right person." Ike still seems lost, but before he can pose another question Kyle returns.

"What're you doing?" Kyle asks curiously. Then, brandishing the tickets, he adds: "Wait, I don't wanna know. Let's head out." Stan nods, but as the two brothers begin to walk away he lingers behind for a moment, staring into the space in front of him.

"A gut-wrenching feeling inside you doesn't mean you're in love…" and Stan leaves it at that.

* * *

**Story especially giftwrapped for cjmarie.** Don't ask; inside thing. 

Obviously, I have WAY too many stories for my own good going on. However, I had to get this one off my chest. So, if you'd like to see this continued, please review (or simply tell me by other means), and I'll happily consider it.

Back to original fiction I go... Which reminds me, if you're interested in reading my fiction story (my **current obsession**) please visit my fictionpress site. The website is www (dot) fictionpress (dot) com (forwardslash... the key that the ? shares) (squiggly line) zakuyoe.

Until next time!

-Zakuyoe-


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